


In the Shadow of Two Gunmen

by memymo



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, F/M, Female Josh Lyman, Genderswap, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memymo/pseuds/memymo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe in the long run, he would regret that decision, but right now, he could not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shadow of Two Gunmen

Sometimes, Toby truly wondered if the universe was out to get him, or if it was just him being too paranoid for his own good.

Right now, Toby was sure that this was some convoluted plot something or someone had concocted up to torture him, slowly and surely. They should probably be popping champagne and patting themselves on a job well done at this moment, because Toby was about to tear all his hair out (which he doubt would much left after tonight) and jumped out of a plane (something which he vowed to never do).

But Toby did neither. Instead, he held on to her hand. Small, delicate, but sure and solid in his own hand, reminding him that she was still here, still breathing (not on your own, his stupid treacherous brain supplied), still alive. She was here, who knows for how long, but here in this moment, and for that small respite, Toby was grateful.

He could feel it – Leo’s worried gaze, Sam’s concern glances, and CJ’s sympathetic eyes. He could feel them weighed heavily like a rope around his neck, the Earth on Atlas’ shoulder. The silence was impenetrable, with both parties unwilling to be the first one to speak. Just waiting, waiting for someone to volunteer for the white and make the first move. Toby felt as if he was being choked to death by the oppressive air around him.

But honestly, he could not muster the strength to care.

He would not, could not care about the disapproval and the worry and the concerns, when she was lying there on a hospital bed, so small, so still it hurt for him to breath. She was never that still, that quiet. Even in her sleep, she moved around restlessly, holding on to him or clutching the pillow to her chest, her legs kicking the blanket around until she turned herself into a small caterpillar in the middle of the bed. Even in her moment of rest, she mumbled something, whether it was just unintelligible musings about the idiotic Congress or some weird historical facts she picked up along her ways. It was almost unnatural to see her be anything but full of life and bright.

Someone had shot the sun. Someone had shot his sun.

They had never been this closed. Sure, they have all thought about the possibilities, because working with the White House means all kind of troubles, but not like this, never like this. Just a little bit, and he would have lost her forever. No more rants from across the hall, no more little dimples lighting up the room, no more breathless sounds in the dark of night, no more clear ringing bells in the first ray of morning light.

So closed. Too closed.

So right now, Toby could careless about whether or not the front page of some cheap, stupid ass tabloid headlined the fact that the Communication Director is sleeping with the Deputy Chief of Staffs, that Leo would surely give him an earful about being with her (and threatening him not to hurt her), that Sam and CJ would be asking all kind of questions that Toby had never been able to answer (sometimes, she was so much better at this than him. Sometimes), but Toby could not care.

Maybe in the long run, he would regret that decision, but right now, he could not.

The big picture could wait until tomorrow. His immediate concern was right here, on this hospital bed.

“I love you, Jos.”

He hoped, with all his might, hoped like he had never hoped since that time he wanted to be an astronaut, that somehow, somewhere, she could hear him, and come back.


End file.
